By deevaa
Date: 13 June 2000

I feel

I feel him, slipping through my fingers
like my hands are coated
with some sweet smelling lather.

I feel him, slipping away as if I'm rinsing my hands
under warm tap, washing away the evidence
of falling hard and fast.

I feel him like  cold water
splashing on my face reminding me to wake up,  
reminding me its all a dream.

I feel him feeling its too hard.
And not real and not enough
and too much --

and

I feel him, hard.
And too real and never enough
and too much --

and

I feel.
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